Funeral Flowers That Never Wither
by agendersubaru
Summary: Marisa accidentally crashes into a woman's house while Sakuya is pursuing her. As she stays with this woman in order to protect her, the two learn more about each other and Marisa decides that she wants to stay with her forever. However, Marisa puts both of them in danger by frequently going out to find a book on immortality spells.
1. Marisa Finds Herself in a New Place

**(A/N: What's up Touhou fandom! All you need to know about this fic is that I have a big gay crush on Marisa and I wanted to write about Marisa having a big gay crush on someone else. It's gonna get R-18 later so beware. Thank you!)**

Humans seek out warm places where they can hide away and be safe. They wrap themselves in blankets and curl up next to the fireplace and breathe in the smoky air and the scent of burning wood and sleep the thunder storms away. They reach out to hands who promise to protect and comfort then and keep a gentle hold to ensure those reassuring fingertips do not slip away. It's human nature to escape the cold and snow and rain and all the scary things and dart back under the covers and keep every inch of them covered in case some monster were to claw at their toes. And they dream of guardian angels to keep their arms wrapped around them and shield them from the world with enormous wings of untainted white feathers.

That is why being pursued by something we know to be dangerous makes our pulse quicken like it does. We feel exposed like all eyes are on us and struggle to move our shaking legs to carry us faster away from the source of our discomfort. We will never grow accustomed to the tingling sensation of knowing we are the prey.

Well, some will more than others, I suppose.

With eyes blinking rapidly to repel the incoming flakes of snow and rosy cheeks melting the ice on contact, she tightens her numbed and stinging fingers around the rough wood of the broomstick between her legs and lunges forward, paying no attention to the scenery around her turning into a white and blue blur. Parts of her bare face, arms, and neck begin to sting, whether from the burning cold or the projectiles being hurled at her, she was unsure. The edges of her black dress whipped at her thighs and strands of hair tickled at the nape of her neck. Her lips, pale and dry from the cold, parted in voiceless shock when a particularly sharp pain appeared near her elbow. Her golden eyes stray from their path for a brief moment to notice the warm blood flowing down her arm and dripping off her wrist. The skin the red liquid touched was heated for a brief moment before going twice as cold, and the temperature of the wound itself makes her think that she might have been stabbed with an icicle that had jammed itself straight into her bones.

That one moment her eyes twitched to her arms proves to be her downfall. She feels herself make a noticeable dip downward, narrowly avoiding another gray blur overhead. She cries out in frustration as she seizes the end of her broomstick and yanks it upwards to avoid collision with the ground, feeling her bangs suddenly lift from her forehead and exposing it to the sharp air. At this moment she is unable to tell which way is up, as the whole world is stifled with thick white. And before she can even gather her thoughts her neck slams into some unseen force and her eyelids jump open and her vision turns blurry. A shock rolls through her entire body, each muscle tensing up and allowing the broomstick to slip through her legs, before she relaxed and felt her clothes absorbing the moisture of the snow below her.

Her pursuer's feet touched the ground much more gracefully and our protagonist felt another short shock and her legs twitch, making her knees rub against each other. She stares upward without blinking and feels a tremendous urge to run in her veins, strong enough for her to lift her heavy body off the ground and make a mad dash for her broom. The heel of one shoe and the toe of another both hit some solid object at the same time and she is sent face first into the snow yet again. Whimpering in frustration, she snatches the broom and intends to jump onto it but her legs don't let her, and she is forced to cling to the uneven wood for dear life as it leaps off the ground and speeds, spinning out of control, in whatever which way it felt. She can't help but shut her eyes tightly as fear finally claims control of her small body, and in the few seconds she was blind, she felt yet another crash, this time to the side of her head and her shoulders. This time, rather than snow, whatever she hit cracked apart and flung splinters into her face before she hit a much softer object and her hands slapped against a stone floor. After that it was dreadfully silent and she was far too tired to move.

After she let herself rest right where she was, she became aware of the quick and panicked breathing coming from underneath her. Her pulse races again as she thinks that the breathing sounds similar to a choking child, and she grips the stone beneath her hands with the last of her strength and takes her weight off of whatever was underneath her. Her eyelids flutter open like one wakes up from a light sleep, and her vision adjusts so she could finally see the woman she had landed on.

Marisa stared for a brief amount of time before a pang of pain hit the back of her head, and she scratched gingerly at her hair, moaning with pain. "Ahh, that dumb maid really got me this time…" she whined, shutting her eyes yet again to block out the light from the room, which only fueled her headache. "More importantly, where am I…?"

The woman with the look of disbelief on her face finally spoke up. Her blonde hair, which had been tucked away in a ponytail, had been thrown about by the impact of her fall and strands of gold hovered over her frightened green eyes. "Excuse me…?"

It hit Marisa once more that she was sitting on a person, and she bolted upright. "Oh - man - Ah, the door!" she exclaimed, raising a small the small octagonal furnace tucked away in her dress to the sky. Words the woman didn't quite understand flew from her lips, and a small fire started to burn inside of the furnace. She covered her face as a strong wind swept itself around the room, letting in more snow, and returned her attention to the strange girl in front of her in time to see the flame burn itself out. Then Marisa turned toward her.

"We're safe now," she stated simply, hoping to also imply that she didn't intend to hurt her. It was pointless, however, as the owner of the house was shaking with her hands clutched to her chest. Marisa frowned and extended a hand to her to help her up, stumbling a bit as her center of balance was thrown off. "I said it's okay. I cast a spell on this building so the maid won't be able…to…" Her voice trailed off as she noticed the woman wasn't listening, or even looking her in the eye anymore. She was staring fearfully at the hand Marisa had held out, watching scarlet blood stain her fingernails.

Unexpectedly, her next move was to clasp onto Marisa's hand and rub her own soft palm against hers. "Oh, honey, you're bleeding," she said in a distressed voice which struck Marisa deep within her ribcage. She became aware of the fact she was bleeding in more than one place, and the cuts from Sakuya's knives that she hadn't seen before began to flare with pain.

"Oh, it's no big deal," Marisa tried to brush her off, but the childish break in her voice made it clear that it didn't feel so insignificant, especially the soreness in her neck from her first contact with the ground. To further prove how big of a deal it was, after those words left her lips, she staggered to the side once more and the feeling in her legs left once again. She was sent spiraling towards the ground but a pair of arms locked around her back, and Marisa's face met the soft fabric of the woman's shirt. She was thinking at the moment that she would very much like to fall asleep there, and then maybe her headache would go away.

The woman spoke up again, the edge of her chin resting gently atop Marisa's near-unconscious head, and her slender arms stroking her back in a motherly way. "Rest here for a while, darling," she murmured as Marisa started to drift off. "I'll get you all fixed up."

The suggestion sounded rather inviting to the witch and she decided with her hazy brain that yes, she did want to stay there for a while. Her breathing grew quiet and even as she snuggled into the stranger's chest and felt her feet leave the floor, like she was descending into heaven, and one hand left her back and wrapped around her legs. She grew less and less aware of the fingers on her thighs and the gentle grip on her shoulder until she blacked out entirely, allowing herself to be carried upstairs.

She awoke staring at a vaguely familiar ceiling, gradually noticing the bandages on her body that bound her arms and neck. Her headache was mostly gone thanks to a folded up towel that was unpleasantly cold, though she was still too dreary to notice. The top half of her body was wrapped in a wool blanket her bottom half exposed so her caretaker could clean up the cuts and bruises on her legs. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed she wasn't alone, but she didn't mind her presence all that much. It was like waking up to a small animal curled up on the foot of your bed (a small animal that Marisa accidentally kicked), except for this small animal was a woman in her mid-twenties, if Marisa had to guess, who was offering her shelter and a bed and was treating her wounds. It was a welcome sight. In Marisa's dreamy state, it was a _very_ welcome sight and she might have thrown a fit if the woman had decided to leave.

"What's your name?"

The words left Marisa's lips before the thought of saying them even entered her head, but she desperately wanted to know who she was for one reason or another. At the moment, she wanted to thank her more than anything, and also apologize for breaking her door. The woman lifted her emerald eyes and finally looked at Marisa's face with an expression that did not contain any shock or fear, and Marisa was eternally thankful for that.

"Oh, you're awake."

She was being awfully immature again, but the fact that she was remaining in the dark as to this girl's identity for a few more seconds was unusually stressful. "Please, I need to know your name," she practically begged, raising her voice just a little and hearing it crack. She wasn't quite sure herself why she needed her name so badly, but she wasn't in the right state of mind to question her subconscious.

She moved a bit closer to Marisa and placed a hand on her forehead after removing the towel, feeling her temperature. "My name is Allison," she said quietly to silence the whining child. Rather than relax, Marisa's chest only swelled up further.

"Allison what?"

"Allison Shuster," she said even more quietly, starting to look confused again.

"Allison Shuster," Marisa repeated, blinking her eyes rapidly. It didn't sound half as good in Marisa's voice, and she hated it. There was a certain clarity when Allison said her own name and Marisa was reluctant to ruin it. "Is that - Is it German?"

"It is."

Marisa was at a loss for words. After a stunned silence, Allison spoke in her place. "What about you, honey? What's your name?"

Well, for a moment she wasn't sure, but "honey" sounded rather nice. She liked the sound of that. Maybe she could go by "honey" for the rest of her life. Yes, that sounded much better than whatever her name could have been before. What was that again? Let's just pretend she was always Honey.

"Do you remember your name?" she asked worriedly, ruffling her hair. "You had a bit of a nasty fall."

Marisa covered her face on reflex, feeling her cheeks started to burn up. It was at this moment that she was starting to question herself. She's never made a fool of herself quite like this before. At the same time, she's never met a person quite like this Allison before. She chanted in her brain that it was just an average human that she had met, a particularly kind one at most. A particularly kind, pretty, motherly human who she had ran into entirely by chance. Marisa was not, by nature, a nervous person, yet now she could hardly bear showing her face to a girl she had just met. Her insides were doing somersaults and some odd pain threatened to break out of her chest. She forced herself to move her fingers and look Allison in the eye, while still covering the parts that were blushing furiously. She breathed her name into her palms, her voice muffled by her skin.

"Th'name's Marisa."

And Allison smiled for the first time.


	2. Marisa Shows Off Her Storytelling

**(A/N: I love Marisa a lot I'm so sorry. This chapter gets kind of nsfw but nothing too explicit.)**

Marisa made up her mind to never, ever, ever leave that bed. But once Allison left, that idea seemed awfully unrealistic, and plus she was growing aware that her legs needed a bit of a stretch. Plus she hadn't even explored the new environment yet, which was a problem that she was determined to solve as soon as possible. She convinced herself that those were the only reasons she forced herself out from underneath the covers - a little gingerly, as standing vertically caused the blood to rush out of her head - and she tiptoed her way downstairs.

There was also the tempting idea that getting out of bed would cause Allison to worry and it would force her to give her guest some attention, but Marisa was not that needy and she only thought about that for a second. Just a second.

Just in case, she snatched up her hat before she left, placing it snugly atop her head - just in case Allison had some questions about Marisa's gallant adventures before she had landed at her doorstep. Or, through her door. The witch hat, regardless, was a nice touch for storytelling, and Marisa was an expert storyteller.

Allison was found in her relatively small and mostly wood and ceramic kitchen, with the sunlight and sweet air, rich with the smell of melting snow and the bread in the oven, thrown about Allison's blonde hair in a loose braid upon her shoulder, and hand-stitched white dress, a green apron tied around her waist. Marisa felt a warmth creep up her neck and sink into her cheeks, spreading finally to her ears and nose. She stood watching the woman for a while, mesmerized by the hairs on the back of her neck and the rhythmic tapping of the straps of Allison's apron hitting the back of her thighs when a gust blew through the window and washed the scent of the bread over Marisa's face.

She wanted to make herself known and have Allison turn to face and acknowledge her, so she subtly tapped her foot lightly against the ground and folded her hands behind her back, feigning looking around the room. There was quite a bit to see actually. The living room had a couch and a chair that didn't match each other, the first being a busy pattern so dark a green that it was almost black, and the latter was a bit darker than the color of eggshells. Both were set up near a dark mahogany coffee table with several glass trinkets and enough coasters for a house that held at least seven people, each of a different shade of red and green, and there were many pillows set up near the armrests, each of different colors and patterns, but all made of the same material as far as Marisa could see. The walls were made of a dark wood that contrasted against the patterns of sunlight from the windows, and there were three clocks: a grandfather clock of rich oak wood with a heavy bronze pendulum ticking away inside the glass casing, an old rickety cuckoo clock of a lighter wood with tiny bluebirds carved and painted by hand, and a more modern circular clock painted with smoky black and off-white hands and numbers. The seven on this clock was just barely a darker shade of white and was a bit bigger and suspiciously more curved around the edges than the others. Paintings of different sizes and shapes were mounted on the wall, including a particularly large one that rested over a brick fireplace opposite the sofa. Marisa was in the middle of beholding the individual paintings, varying from soft pastel landscapes dotted by pink and orange and white flowers to images of important-looking people with similar flowers tucked into the pockets of their shirts or their dresses or their hair.

Marisa was in the middle of beholding the repeating pattern of flowers when she heard a voice behind her, a voice that sounded familiar enough for it to be her mother, yet each syllable carried enough new sensations for Marisa to be convinced that this was the first time she had heard the voice. "What are you doing up?"

She shivered with the thrill of being discovered. She shrugged her little shoulders and lifted her eyes to the ceiling to continue inspecting the place. "Oh, I'm not feeling so bad," she said modestly, trying to bait Allison for more.

Allison pursed her pink lips and set down her kitchen work, which, once Marisa was able to get an excited glance over her shoulder, turned out to be strawberries she was mashing into a jam for the bread. Allison made her way over to Marisa, whose casual demeanor disappeared when she finally received all the attention she wanted, and Marisa squeezed her fingers behind her back and held her head up with a smile that a child would have after some sort of mischief.

Allison, to Marisa's utter joy, placed her warm palm on Marisa's forehead. Marisa stood on her tiptoes just a little, becoming aware that she was still barefoot and getting just a little ashamed of her own childishness. She crinkled her nose and tried to appear a bit more mature, forcing away her smile. "That can't be," Allison persisted. "You had just an awful day yesterday. Look, your head's all bandaged up because-"

"The door!" Marisa exclaimed, and then immediately slapped both her hands over her mouth and felt her face flush. She silently swore never to interrupt Allison again and couldn't even bring herself to continue speaking.

"Oh, the door," Allison said with an understanding smile on her lips, though Marisa had difficulty to imagine how Allison would understand a girl crashing through her door on a broomstick. She was really feeling the sting of embarrassment now, and she would have loved nothing more than to pull her hat over her face and disappear within it.

Allison tussled Marisa's hair a little and the teasing little tug was felt more on Marisa's heartstrings than her hair. "Darling, don't you mind about the door. I've covered it up with some spare wood-" Marisa cringed. She had been trying to ignore that. "-and I'll have it fixed up permanently in a day or two. Now don't even think of apologizing."

"I'm real sorry-"

"Marisa."

She clamped her teeth together and shut her mouth, probably for good.

Another smile played on Allison's lips. She brushed Marisa's bangs aside, observing her with her green eyes. Marisa couldn't bring herself to look into those eyes, though her gaze continued to rise up to her pretty face no matter how hard she tried to fix it to the floor. Marisa's lips parted in awe at the evenness of her skin and the shape of her nose and the blush on her ears and she would look until she got so nervous that she had to return her attention to her own pink little toes.

"Honey, don't you go feeling sorry," her voice said, harmonizing with her touch to try and soothe the girl in front of her. "It was just an accident. Accidents happen all the time and they can't be helped. You didn't mean to break something, did you?"

"No, ma'am."

"And you know to be more careful now, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Very good." Marisa stood a little straighter at the praise. "What's important is that you go and get better. You got a little banged up when you fell."

Marisa wondered for a moment if Allison was purposely leaving out the more gory details to avoid upsetting her, or maybe she just chose her words delicately. But she was still eager to get her story out. Beginning to form sentences, however, proved to be a feat of its own.

"Ma'am - there's - the way it happened-"

"Allison," she corrected, providing each individual syllable with its own special stress and weight that Marisa felt they were too precious for her to speak out loud. Nevertheless, she tried due to the assumption that she must be special to have permission to use her first name, and the opportunity was not to be wasted.

"Allison," she revised her sentence. She paused to be disappointed over her inadequate pronunciation of the name and wished that she could have Allison's voice. If she had Allison's voice, she would not swear or speak too loudly indoors and she would probably not speak to anyone because they weren't worthy of that voice, she would stay at home and maybe read poetry to herself and maybe sing lullabies. "The way it happened is - that is, the door - maybe we could sit down?"

Allison took Marisa's shoulders, making sure she stayed steady as she walked her over to the dark couch and sat her down, taking her place next to her. Marisa felt perfectly fine but she didn't object to being touched. They both got comfortable, Allison offering to make Marisa some tea but Marisa refusing for now, and the magician struggled to begin her tale in a way that Allison would enjoy. She cursed herself for not planning it out beforehand.

"Y'see, Miss Allison, I'm - do you believe in magic?"

"Magic!" the woman repeated, eyebrows rising a bit.

"You're a little cut off, out here, so probably not. Well, I'm a magician, see?"

Allison nodded her head in affirmation, though she didn't quite look like she believed it. Marisa tried to choose her words carefully.

"Yesterday, I broke your door 'cause my broomstick went outta control."

"I thought witches rode broomsticks, not magicians."

"Oh I suppose they do, but that's just a regular old broom! You know - I hexed it."

"You hexed it!"

Marisa got a little bit more comfortable. She was fascinated by the way Allison pronounced the letter X. It was like the quick sound a small child makes right before bursting into giddy snickering. "Sure did. When I was little I wanted to make things fly, so I studied up on some of that type of magic, but I had to go back a bunch before I could learn levitating spells."

"And you lost control of that broom?"

"I'm an _expert_ , honest I am, but I was acting under a bit of pressure at the time." She put a particular amount of stress on 'expert', hoping Allison would repeat the word.

"What kind of pressure, for an _expert_ like you?" Marisa loved how fast Allison caught on. She could not stop herself from smiling, though she tried her hardest to maintain a serious expression.

"Like there's this mansion."

"A mansion," Allison confirmed, nodding her head. Marisa was growing awfully excited.

"And in that mansion there's a bunch of books."

"Mm-hm."

"And I'm a little bit of a bookworm 'cause I've got so many spells and things that I wanna learn, and I'm already friends with the family anyway…"

"Oh no."

"…so I just let myself in from time to time."

"Oh my goodness."

Marisa's lips broke into an ecstatic grin. She really did catch on fast. "And there's this maid."

"Yes."

"I ain't friends with her."

"I would imagine."

"So she doesn't take too kindly to me borrowing all those books, even though she knows I'm gonna give 'em back - Besides, the family lives forever!"

"Forever?"

"Yeah - She won't, because she's human like me. At least I think. But she's crazy strong."

"Crazy strong?" It tickled Marisa to hear those words out of Allison's mouth.

"Enough to chase me straight outta Misty Lake and have me scampering all over Gensokyo like a bat outta hell - Oh man, I'm sorry!" She covered her mouth again after becoming aware that she had cursed in front of such a proper-looking woman, making Allison laugh.

"Don't worry about it, darling, I won't tell a soul."

Marisa's hands pressed against her smile. She felt warm and drunk all over, and she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her breast. "That's - That's how it happened," she said sheepishly, wrapping up her story. "It was snowing and I was flying on my broom and there were knives everywhere…"

"Knives! Oh my goodness, you're awfully brave," Allison said, her voice taking on a dreamy breathiness.

That just about did it. Marisa snatched one of the throw pillows on the couch and hugged it tightly, burying her face in the soft fabric and murmured, "I might take that tea now."

"I'm sorry?"

She lifted up her face just a little so the pillow wouldn't muffle the sound. "I think maybe I'll have some tea now." She planted her face in the pillow again. It felt nice. Smelled nice too.

While the magician cooled down, the room was filled with the scent of chamomile. Her gold eyes peered over the pillow, watching Allison pour the tea. She wanted to drink tea that Allison made for her. Marisa sat up a little straighter, blinking her eyes. That was an awfully weird thought. But she really, really, really wanted to drink tea that Allison made for her. She rubbed her knees together, face heating up again. She couldn't sit still, fidgeting incessantly while hugging onto the pillow. Allison poured the tea into a white teacup with a pink and green floral pattern and she dropped two sugar cubes inside, and she set it down on the mahogany table and it made little clinking sounds in time for Marisa to watch the sugar melting away. She picked up the cup and ran her fingers over the smooth surface that was gradually getting warmer from the tea, and mostly in order to appear as if she wasn't in a rush to drink it, she blew on the surface before bringing it to her lips. Her fingers shook for a moment in excitement as she smelled and tasted the tea, which only served to warm her up even further.

"So after that," Allison spoke up, and Marisa hurriedly swallowed her mouthful in order to speak with her. Her stomach felt a flush of warmth. "You found yourself in my home?"

"I had closed my eyes," Marisa admitted. "Just for a second - I have no idea why."

"Perhaps you were just scared."

Marisa lifted her head a bit higher, dismissing the idea. "I fight with Sakuya all the time; she doesn't scare me."

Allison smiled. "I suppose not much scares you at all?"

Marisa struggled to come up with a response, feeling like Allison was teasing her. "Some things must scare me. I'm only human. Does something scare you?"

Allison didn't even take any time to think. "Honey, talking about that would be awfully unpleasant."

Marisa set her cup down determinedly and said without thinking, "Whatever it is, I bet I can protect you from it." After the words had left her lips, she realized how embarrassing they were and returned her gaze to the pretty teacup.

Allison seemed intrigued. "I'm sure you can," she said quietly. "After all, if you're not afraid of that maid, I'm sure you can handle most anything."

"Are you afraid?" Marisa asked with heat in her voice. "Th' maid's not scary. I can handle much worse than her. So don't be afraid."

"I'm not so afraid, honey," she murmured, leaning forward and smoothing Marisa's bangs. "Not with you here. I'm more afraid that you'll get yourself hurt if she comes looking for you."

"Oh but I wouldn't!" Marisa piped up, hushing herself immediately after her outburst. "She gives me little cuts and bruises a lot but nothing serious."

She didn't look convinced. "I understand that you're skilled enough to keep you safe," she said, brushing her hair with her fingers. Marisa shivered under her touch, trying to inch closer. "But no matter how skilled you are, the idea of you involved in a fight with a girl who throws knives chills me. You understand, don't you?"

"I do understand," Marisa said immediately, rubbing her anxious legs together and mentally begging Allison to touch her more. "But if she comes back then what can I do?"

"You said you shielded the house somehow?"

"Yes - I put a spell over the building so she can't come close."

"How long will that last?"

Marisa paused. "Until I lift it."

"Then do you mind staying here until we can somehow work things out with her?"

Marisa breathed an obvious dreamy sigh, flooded with excitement and adoration. "Yes - I mean no! I don't mind one bit! If you don't mind having me," she added, voice weak.

"I don't mind at all. It's a blessing to have some company, and you seem to have some interesting stories to tell. It's just a shame that you're more or less trapped in such a boring place."

"Oh no," Marisa almost whispered, and that was all she could manage to say. "Oh, no, no."

They drank the rest of their tea and chatted about Marisa's new role in the house. Marisa insisted and insisted again to help with housework but Allison persisted that no longer how long she stayed, Marisa was a guest. Their talk drifted from Marisa's sleeping arrangements to Allison's unusual place of residence - Marisa learned that Allison's family several generations ago had built a farm several miles from Human Village and had raised mostly sheep for wool, and they had sold clothes they made themselves and also wild flowers around the area to make a living for themselves. Allison's remaining family was her mother, father, and grandmother, and after her grandmother had fallen sick, they had moved into the city to find better doctors. They had decided to live their permanently and left Allison in charge of the house, which only had three sheep left and in the middle of winter, so business was bad. But Allison was making enough to live just fine and she still had a large amount of money that her parents had left for her before heading to the city. Allison explained little things all over the house, like how the number seven had broken off of one of the clocks and she crafted her own to replace it, and while she spoke she got more comfortable and lifted her legs onto the couch and leaned against the armrest, and Marisa followed her lead, and their bare feet mingled in the middle and occasionally Allison would wiggle her toes and accidentally-on-purpose tickle Marisa who would giggle and withdraw her feet quickly. But because she liked the attention she would slide her feet close enough for Allison to do it again.

Marisa didn't have any changes of clothes but Allison said she had more than enough winter clothes to go around, and right away fit her with some pink sleepwear that buttoned up in the front and fit perfectly except for the sleeves were a bit long, so Allison said she would get to sewing them to Marisa's length, and Marisa was rather excited about that idea but brushed it off and told her there was no need to rush. Once it was finished Marisa excused herself and ran into the washroom to check every angle of the clothes Allison had given her in the mirror. She ran her fingers along the stitches on the sleeves, which she knew Allison had spent particular care on, just for her. And, curiously, she unbuttoned it from the top until her soft developing breasts poked out just a little, and leaned towards the mirror to examine herself. She practiced her smile, batting her eyelashes seductively, posing at different angles until she found her face getting redder and her heart beating faster and the delusions in her head increasing. Then she got so embarrassed that she buttoned up the pajamas and went downstairs, fanning herself with her hand.

Allison was picking out more clothes for her when she came back. She glanced up over the boxes of women's clothing, eyebrows rising. "Darling, you're all red," she noted.

"I don't feel red," Marisa said lamely, prying her eyes away from the details of Allison's face and figure.

"I'd feel just awful if you caught a cold." Allison stood, her arm rising with the intent to touch her.

Marisa's breath caught in her throat and she recognized right away that she couldn't possibly handle being touched by her now, so she spluttered a halfhearted excuse and dashed right back upstairs, this time to Allison's bedroom. She threw herself down on the bed she had woken up in, whimpering with need, and embraced the pillow that Allison had laid her pretty head on so many nights before and squeezed it in her arms. She squirmed against the sheets, blushing so badly that she felt dizzy. Her body felt on fire, craving friction like mad, but somehow she managed to suppress her urges and even gathered the will to show herself in Allison's presence long enough for them to share a meal together.

She accidentally fell asleep in that bed for a few minutes, and when Allison came up to check on her, she apologized over and over but Allison claimed that she had wanted to give Marisa the bed anyway. She didn't have any guest rooms and was planning on sleeping on the couch herself. Marisa objected but it was impossible to argue with Allison, since she never let it become an argument in the first place. So Marisa slept in the same bed that night as she had the night before, and this time she couldn't keep her hormones in check. After rustling around under the covers while she was too fired up to sleep, she tossed them off and exposed her body to the cool air, and she slipped downstairs and peered into the living room, seeing Allison's sleeping face. Marisa paced back and forth in the door way, little brown slippers Allison had picked out for her sliding against the hardwood floor, and she rubbed the stitches on her sleeves anxiously. Restraining herself at this point was nearly painful, and she was slowly acquiring a habit of licking and biting her lips, so she took her sorry self back upstairs and touched herself, breathing hot air into the pillow.

She wanted her so bad. Settling down alone in that bed was too much. It wasn't exactly lonely, because the whole house felt as if it had Allison in it and Marisa couldn't feel lonely, but she felt as if her happiness had gotten up and went to rest downstairs for a while, and Marisa was too embarrassed to chase after it. After one day in that little cottage she felt as if she had been there for years and as if Allison had just barely been beyond her reach for all that time. She wanted to be held with her and she wanted to feel all the parts of her body and look at those pretty eyelashes even closer and she wanted to bury her head the nape of her neck be surrounded by Allison. Marisa was so full of thoughts of Allison and burned into a constant state of excitement that she reached ecstasy after a few short minutes and panted hotly into the pillow. She felt guilty after settling into a proper sleeping position afterwards.

Her mind was half-asleep after that. She attempted to plan out her next conversation with Allison, and she detailed all the things she would tell her: which stories, which words, which syllables, and which things Allison would say back. She was excited enough to have trouble sleeping, but frankly she was exhausted and after a few minutes of fantasizing she fell into a deep sleep.


	3. Marisa Runs Some Errands

**(A/N: This chapter contains another OC of mine. Thanks for reading!)**

Marisa overslept, since she had been so overexcited the night before. She awoke the next morning to the faint warmth of sunshine on her cheeks, and the smell of coffee. She might have leapt right out of bed, but Allison's room had a certain quality to it that made her want to stay there and feel warm for as long as possible. She shut her eyes and nearly fell back asleep listening to the soft sounds of movement from the kitchen, but when her dreamy state was interrupted by her stomach growling, she made up her mind to get up. 

She placed her bare feet gingerly on the floor, and she paused to run her fingers hastily through her hair in a quick attempt to fix her bedhead. However, her hair was just as fluffy and wild as when she lifted her head off the pillow. It stuck up at odd angles and formed wide curves of blonde. So she shook out her hair and forgot about it, and she stood up and made her way sleepily downstairs. 

Allison had set up little triangular sandwiches and crackers for breakfast. Marisa's share was on the coffee table next to a mug of tea. Marisa blinked at the singular mug, and joined Allison at the kitchen counter, where Allison was flipping through pages. "Good morning," Allison greeted, looking up from the pages to smile at her. 

Marisa smiled crookedly back at her. "Good morning. Did you eat without me?" 

"I'm afraid I did." Allison apologetically ruffled Marisa's hair. Marisa felt a rush of excitement at her touch, though she was embarrassed that Allison was treating her like a kid. "I have to head to Human Village now if I'm going to make it back by lunch. And I don't want you to go hungry." 

"Oh, that's okay," Marisa said immediately. "I could go for you." 

"I don't think so." 

"I really could! It's just errands an' stuff, right? I owe it to you for, y'know, breaking your door." Marisa grinned. This was her chance to prove that she wasn't a kid. Plus, she did have something to do while in Human Village, but it wasn't something she could mention to Allison. 

"But that knife-throwing maid girl is still after you," Allison reminded her. "I insist you stay inside. You could get hurt." She smiled. "Besides, I wouldn't want you breaking someone else's door and leaving me all alone." 

Marisa laughed nervously at that last part. "I won't do that. I can escape that girl easily if I take my broomstick." Marisa remembered something, then started to dig into her pockets. She retrieved the furnace she had used to cast the spell earlier. "And I have this!" 

"And what is that?" 

"Insurance," Marisa responded simply. "Please let me go! That girl won't cause a scene in Human Village, I promise. And even if she does, I could get away easily." Marisa put her hands on her hips and puffed her chest out, and stood on the balls of her feet to appear taller. 

Allison studied her for a moment. Marisa gave her best winning smile, and Allison couldn't help but smile back, though she immediately covered her mouth with her hand to compose herself. "All right," Allison said eventually. "Here, I'll write you a list of what to buy…" She produced a pocketbook from her apron and tore out a page, getting to work. Marisa turned around and secretly pumped her fist, viewing this as a level up in her stance with Allison. "And it's still cold out, so I'll lend you one of my coats. Oh, and a bag…" Remembering the sandwiches, she added, "Oh, please eat these while you wait! I'll go gather what you need."

Marisa did as she was told, and then got ready to head off to Human Village. Taking Allison's over-the-shoulder bag and the page with the list of things to buy, Marisa stepped outside of Allison's cottage and was immediately met with a chilly wind, despite the fact that the sun was out. On the day Marisa had crash-landed in the field outside of the cottage, it had been snowing for the first time that winter, and (judging from the appearance of the sun) probably the only time that winter. One night of snow and a bit of cold wind wasn't enough for the grass in the area to die - the field that stretched ahead was mostly green, with the exception of the odd patch of bare dirt. Actually, it was the first time Marisa had taken a good look outside. There was a lake (or perhaps just a natural-looking watering hole for the sheep?) nearby that had probably been half-frozen on that snowy night, but was back to its original state now. The things that really caught Marisa's eye, though, were the budding flowers that sprouted near the lake and dotted the grassy field, stretching onwards till they reached the forest in the distance. Half of them were drooping or had collapsed due to the snowfall, but some were still standing, though none had bloomed yet. From their white color and the flower imagery Marisa had seen from paintings in the house, Marisa concluded that they were lilies, and remembered how Allison had said that her family grew them to sell in town. So Allison must have planted them. Somehow, that made them seem more beautiful, even though they were just budding now. Marisa would admire them properly later, because for now she had errands to run. She straddled her broom and gave the ground a swift kick to take off.

Human Village was in general a noisy place, noisy like a herd of sheep when a rumor of a lurking wolf passes through the farm, since its habitants always had some danger to be gossiping about. The marketplace was noisier still, both with the sound of humans chattering and with the toy drums and flutes that were sold there. Children were running about, holding the hand of their brothers or sisters, and begging their mothers to buy them playing cards or one of the sweet-smelling pastries out on display, and the shopkeepers were yelling out to people in the bustling crowd to come over and check out their merchandise.

Marisa had promised not to get sidetracked, and she skillfully avoided getting roped into a conversation with any of the shopkeepers (which was easy, because most of them knew her by name and they knew that she never stayed in one place for long), but the truth was, she did have to make a quick stop while grocery shopping.

Even over the boisterous noise of the crowd, the gentle, musical sound of wind chimes soon entered Marisa's hearing range. Following the sound, she came to a small, somewhat cramped shop labeled with a wooden board: "Maddock Potions" was carved into it. The shop smelled of incense but it was also possible to make out the earthy smell of soil and plants beneath it. Strange glassware in various shapes (stars, moons, some potted plants where you could see the roots) hung from the ceiling, and vials and other scientific equipment were laid out on a wooden desk in the back. There was a cupboard that was completely full of glass containers containing colored liquids - purple, green, the occasional black or transparent one - some labeled "DO NOT INGEST", though they were placed dangerously close to the ones that were presumably safe to ingest and sealed only with corks.

Running this shop (or rather, working in the back while the crowd passed by, indifferent) was a short and plucky-looking redhead girl about Marisa's age with freckles all over her face and, as her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, all over her arms too. She was wearing a somewhat odd combination of dark green overalls, a white blouse, and black boots, and a pair of goggles were perched on her head - failing to serve their purpose, as they weren't protecting her eyes. Marisa knew this girl. Her name was Clarice Maddock, the genius daughter of some quack doctor who couldn't make potions to save his life. In addition to being Human Village's potion vendor, she also had Marisa doing various odd jobs in return for free access to her potions and occasionally some meager monetary payment. Rarely.

"Clarice!" Marisa called out, making the girl look up from her work. "Your hair is growing back great."

This was sarcasm. Clarice had tried to cut her hair into a pixie cut a few weeks back, since it had always gotten in the way while she worked, but her father insisted that girls shouldn't have their hair cut above their ears and he made her grow it back out. It was just past her ears now, but it was still choppy and looked like a child had cut it (well, she had cut it herself, so…). It was in that awkward stage where it was long enough to bother her while she was leaned over her potions, but not quite long enough to pull it back in a ponytail.

Clarice looked up at her with wide green eyes. Under normal circumstances, she would've had some kind of sassy retort or sarcastic laugh in response to Marisa's joke, but since she was waiting on a delivery from Marisa, her eyes lit up and she was able to forgive her for that jab at her hair. "My partner in crime! I've been waiting! Did you get the book I asked you for?"

Marisa's hesitation appeared on her face, but she didn't stop smiling in order to appear confident. "See, the thing is…"

Clarice frowned, furrowing her eyebrows. "Kirisame! You didn't get it."

"It ain't my fault! I can get past the gatekeeper but that maid wants me dead! It's like she has a sixth sense for whenever I'm around."

"That's never been a problem before! Don't tell me your thieving skills are getting rusty now."

"I'm not a thief, I'm a borrower."

"Sure thing, sister. But listen, Kirisame," Clarice leaned across the counter and looked serious, scrunching up her nose and everything. Marisa could count her freckles from this distance, if there weren't so many of them. "I need that book. There's a spell in it that can accomplish more than either of us have ever accomplished in our miserable lives. And only a skilled and well-read potion-maker like myself can unlock its contents. It'll make the Maddock business famous throughout all of Gensokyo. I _need_ that book! If I don't do this, I'll be a failure! My entire livelihood depends on it!"

Clarice always had a talent for making things seem like the lives of everyone in Gensokyo were at stake. Marisa had known her for years, though, so she didn't fall for it anymore.

"And what's this super important spell do? Cut the time it takes for making soba noodles in half?"

"That," Clarice raised her finger. "would be an economic miracle, and I'll make a note of it and address it later in the future. But no - you can't even begin to address the gravity that this spell carries. This is much bigger than any of us, or all the soba noodles in the world."

"That's pretty big. Are you going to tell me what it is?"

Clarice leaned even further over the counter, almost knocking some glass container over in the process, and motioned with her hand for Marisa to lend her an ear. She whispered two words to her: "Eternal life."

The wind chimes clanged. The clear sound cut through the air, and for a moment it seemed like the crowd was silent, but it was probably just Marisa's imagination.

"...That's a stupid idea," Marisa said in a low voice, discontented with the feeling in her chest.

"Yes, wanting eternal life is stupid," Clarice agreed. Marisa was a little surprised at her answer. "I think most people know living forever wouldn't be pleasant at all. But what if I could alter the spell a bit? What if I could make a temporary form of eternal life, maybe one that lasts, say, one hundred and fifty years? What if I could make a spell that would keep people young and strong for decades after they're supposed to be old and weak, without all the downsides of living forever?"

Marisa's smile was gone now. "...I-I don't-"

Clarice cut her off, not finished dreamily explaining on about her youth spell. "What if you could stay longer with a family member that would have otherwise died, even if for a limited amount of time? What if you could give it to a family pet, and keep it alive long enough for the children in the family to grow up? What if you're in love with someone, and you love them so much that the human lifespan just isn't enough, and you want to spend even more time with them-"

"Clarice!" It was Marisa's turn to cut her off. "I can't get that book for you."

"What?! Don't give up on me now, Kirisame!"

"You like that maid, don't you? If you just need to borrow a book, why can't you go and ask her for it?"

Clarice, as tomboyish as she was, blushed at the suggestion. "Y'see...I think Sakuya might be mad at me."

"Mad at you? Well, she's mad in general."

"No...I think she found out you were working for me."

"Ah, that'll do it. The maid hates my guts."

Clarice sighed. "But, you see, even if it's for selfish reasons, I really need the book. I have a theory…" She shook her head. Her choppy hair settled so it stuck out past her ears. "Well, no. I'll tell you about it later. I don't think you would understand right now."

"...If you say so," Marisa mumbled. She knew that there would be no way Allison would let her go back and confront the maid again - and Marisa didn't want to put Allison in danger either. Yet Clarice was staring at her with such desperate and pleading eyes, and… "All right, I'll give it another shot."

"Thank you!" Clarice cried. She might've hugged her if the counter weren't in between them. "Oh thank you, Kirisame, you don't know how much this project means to me."

"If I get banged up even a little, I'm gonna get an earful…" Marisa complained.

"Eh? No offense, but who would scold you for getting banged up? I think everyone knows how irresponsible you are."

"Hmph." Marisa crossed her arms, and repeated what Clarice had said earlier: "I'll tell you about it later. I don't think you would understand right now."

"Watch it, sister." Clarice smiled again and suddenly darted off, grabbed a jar of some green liquid from the cupboard, and placed it proudly on the table. "Here, take this as thanks. I created it the other day: my own brand of extra-sweet honey."

Marisa examined the color. "What's in it?"

"Just honey and natural sugar. Keeping it simple, sister."

Marisa pointed to the label on the jar. "Then why does it say that it isn't safe to eat?"

"Oh crap, wrong one! Hold on…!"

That misunderstanding was, thankfully, cleared up, and Marisa went on her way to do the actual shopping that Allison had sent her out to do. She went home knowing that it was, indeed, honey in the new jar that Clarice had given her, since Clarice had opened it and taste-tasted it to prove it. Marisa still wondered what a potion-maker was doing making honey, but she decided not to think about Clarice's economical motives for too long.

Upon arriving home, Allison showered Marisa with words of thanks and appreciation. You would've thought she saved the world or something, the way Allison was praising her. The two used the ingredients to make lunch, and they spread Clarice's honey on some biscuits. Marisa had told Allison that it was her friend's special super-sweet honey just to further impress her (and Allison was indeed very impressed), but Marisa was very aware that it was just honey with more sugar than usual in it. Still, Allison didn't have to know that. ...Well, actually, she probably could have figured it out on her own

Marisa hesitantly looked up from the food. She had a bit of the honey remaining on the corner of her mouth. "...Allison?"

"Yes, Marisa?" Allison noticed the honey, and reached over and dabbed it away with a cloth.

Marisa was trying as hard as she could to focus, but as expected, she was weak to everything Allison did. "Well, I...I'm going to go out again, maybe tomorrow, because there's someone I need to say hi to. See, uh…A-A friend of mine that I know in Human Village is having a child soon, and I'm going to go visit her." She had been thinking of that excuse for the whole ride home. Hopefully it would hold.

"All right, honey, just be careful."

"I'll be so careful," Marisa promised. "I'll be so, so careful. I'll be ridiculously careful. I'll be on my guard all the time."

Allison laughed. "Okay, I believe you. And do give your friend my best regards. Oh, I know! I'll make some sweets for a gift…"

Marisa was flushed. All of Allison's goodwill was only making it harder to lie to her. But still, she had promised Clarice...As much as it pained her to betray Allison's trust like this, she had to get that book. The concept of eternal life was still hanging eerily above her head, tempting her but frightening her twice as much. But Clarice surely had her own personal reasons for wanting that spell...Marisa would have to ask her about it, and if she decided that Clarice would be using the spell for a bad reason, she wouldn't give her the book. But she decided, very strongly and firmly in her head, that she _would_ go to the Scarlet Mansion and she _would_ get that book. But she would inconceivably careful in the process. She would be careful not to get a single scratch on her, and then she would never lie to Allison again.


End file.
